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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24622891">I Love You (For the Most Part)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitchello/pseuds/mitchello'>mitchello</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wayne Pack 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Female Dick Grayson, Gen, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Protective Bruce Wayne, not a/b/o</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:42:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24622891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitchello/pseuds/mitchello</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Bruce chose his family and two times he lost them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wayne Pack 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>161</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Little Lady</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>What? An interlude??<br/>I also haven't posted in forever and I apologize. Life has been wild.<br/>Thank you to everyone who commented on the last part! I thrive off of comments.<br/>I hope you all are doing well ♥ I love you all!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The carpet in the entry of the Gotham City Youth Center was speckled with dark stains. Bruce had been staring at them for the last fifteen minutes. Ms. Vetch had tried to make small talk with him as they waited for her colleague to come back with Dick, but Bruce wasn’t interested. He didn’t think he could make polite conversation with anyone from the Center at the moment.</p>
<p>He’d visited twice before during his battle to get Dick into his custody, and, frankly, what he’d seen was deplorable. The group home let the kids fight each other as long as nobody was seriously injured. They’d told him that it was necessary for keeping order and claimed it would happen no matter what. They even tried to excuse the majority of violence as ‘wolf instincts’ as if puppies couldn’t help but attack each other to create social order. Though, Bruce could see how the puppies establishing hierarchy was just their attempt to create stability in an unstable environment. That didn’t keep him from planning on pulling all Wayne support from the institution as soon as Dick was out of it. He’d use the Martha Wayne Foundation to set up a better one.  </p>
<p>He tried to stop mapping out the stains on the carpet. What else could he focus on? There were flickering florescent lights, unsettling portraits, and peeling paint. He could sit in one of the puce colored sofa chairs that he was sure were older than him.</p>
<p>He didn’t think it’d take this long for an eight-year-old to pack up her stuff and walk down a flight of stairs.</p>
<p>Ms. Vetch shifted on her feet and Bruce was hit with another wave of her citrus scent. She was the only worker at the Center who was a wolf and Bruce didn’t understand how she was okay with how the place was being run.</p>
<p>There was a creaking of the steps from behind the wall and a second later Dick appeared with Mrs. Abbin, the Center’s director, who was firmly gripping Dick’s shoulder.</p>
<p>A fresh bandage was taped to the side of Dick’s neck. Bruce could also make out old bruises and punctures that weren’t healed all the way yet. He spotted the tiniest bit of blood next to Dick’s lip. If he had to guess, he’d say Dick bit back just as good as she got.</p>
<p>A black trash bag was thrown over the shoulder Mrs. Abbin wasn’t holding.</p>
<p>The way Dick was bristling under the hand didn’t escape from Bruce.</p>
<p>“All set?” Bruce asked.</p>
<p>Dick met his eyes and gave him a sharp nod. Still as angry as ever, then. No smiles, just a cutting expression. She shrugged herself out of Mrs. Abbin’s hold but didn’t come any closer.</p>
<p>“Thank you for all your help,” he told the two women. He turned his attention to Dick. “Let’s get going.”</p>
<p>She tightened her fingers around the trash bag and stepped forward. Confident that she was following, Bruce turned and exited the Center.</p>
<p>In the street, Alfred was waiting for them with the Audi. The elder man even came around to open the door for them. </p>
<p>Dick paused on the last step down from the Center. She focused her angry eyes on him again. “You’re not replacing my dad.”</p>
<p>Bruce knew that. She’d told him the same thing when she’d agreed she wanted him to try for custody. “I know I can’t take the place of your father,” he reassured her.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Bruce wasn’t surprised the first time Dick ran away. He was surprised the cops had picked her up. He wondered if she only let them catch her because she remembered Alfred was serving cassoulet for dinner.</p>
<p>She’d been leaving for hours at a time during the nights since night two. He hadn’t said anything about it though. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for Alfred mentioning the footprints at the bottom of the tree outside of Dick’s window. The man had then suggested for Bruce to find more time to spend with his ward. Alfred was right. He wasn’t spending as much time with Dick as he should be, but he also wasn’t sure how to approach her.</p>
<p>He was twenty-two, how did he think he could take care of an eight-year-old kid?</p>
<p>She was so angry and he was so busy. She’d been there three weeks and he still had absolutely no idea what he was doing.</p>
<p>She smelled packless for Christ’s sake. He didn’t know how to broach the subject either, but there was no way he was sending her to school without a pack scent backing her up.</p>
<p>What was he doing?</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The Manor was dark except for the moonlight floating in through the windows. Bruce was exhausted. After a long night of stopping muggings, he’d stumbled across a jewel heist so he’d been out longer than normal. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, but a strange shadow hanging off the chandelier stopped him in his tracks.</p>
<p>He backtracked a bit to hit the light switch. </p>
<p>Dick’s legs were hooked around one of the chandelier’s metal branches. Her arms and her long, black hair dangled in the air.</p>
<p>“Dick.” He did his best attempt at Alfred’s disapproving tone. That had always worked on him when he was a boy.</p>
<p>“Bruce.” She gave him a nod which looked a bit odd upside down, but she didn’t seem at all scolded. Her tone was perfectly neutral, like Bruce finding her in the chandelier was a regular occurrence.</p>
<p>“You should be in bed.” It was four o’clock in the morning.</p>
<p>Dick gave a shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m sure a climb isn’t going to help you on that front. Staying in bed would be far more supportive of sleep than a jaunt in the chandelier.” He channeled as much Alfred as he could and added a disapproving look. She caught his eye and pulled herself upright. It only lasted a second because she brought herself up into a handstand.</p>
<p>“I’d rather be up here,” she told him simply.</p>
<p>Maybe it was because he was so tired or maybe it was because Dick was only eight, but Bruce was starting to freak out over having her messing around in the chandelier. Rationally, he knew she was used to being so high up, but he also wasn’t sure how much extra weight the fixture could hold. He’d already seen two Flying Graysons fall to their deaths. He didn’t want to see a third.</p>
<p>“Dick, come down,” he snapped.</p>
<p>She directed her gaze back to him. “Fine.”</p>
<p>Bruce felt a moment of relief until a spark of rebellion gleamed in Dick’s eyes.</p>
<p>Dick did a full spin on the metal bar of the chandelier then let go and tucked into a double backflip.</p>
<p>Bruce was moving as soon as she started her descent. He wasn’t going to make it in time.</p>
<p>Dick hit the ground but let her momentum carry her into series of tumbles. She raised her hands then bowed.</p>
<p>He wasn’t sure what kind of expression he was making, but when she saw it, for the first time since she’d arrived at the Manor, a wide grin spread across Dick’s face. For some reason, Bruce felt himself mirroring the same expression.</p>
<p>“Your face,” Dick gasped and then she was lost into a fit of laughter. It didn’t take long for Bruce to join her.</p>
<p>Alfred appeared with his arms crossed wearing the disapproving look Bruce had tried for earlier. Apparently only Alfred could pull it off because both he and Dick straightened immediately when they caught sight of the stern expression.</p>
<p>“And what are you two doing up so late at night?” he fixed them each with a look of reproof.</p>
<p>“Dick couldn’t sleep,” Bruce blurted out.</p>
<p>Alfred raised a brow at them. “Is that so?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dick subconsciously brought a hand to her neck, “nightmares.”</p>
<p>“I suppose this calls for some tea.”</p>
<p>Dick and Bruce follow Alfred into the kitchen. They have their tea in silence most likely because everyone except Dick was too tired for conversation.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>After the chandelier incident, Bruce started to pay more attention to Dick’s sleeping not just whether she was in her room or not.</p>
<p>He knew she was looking for the man who murdered her parents during the night.</p>
<p>He wasn’t sure what to do about it.</p>
<p>Instead of her usual place in the chandelier, which Bruce had somehow failed to tell her not to climb in, when he got home from patrol, Bruce found Dick sitting on the couch in the den in a way so her head was touching the ground and her feet were slung over the top.</p>
<p>He opened up the ottoman and pulled out some of the pack blankets. He curled up with one on the far end of the couch.</p>
<p>“Dick?” Bruce felt encouraged to start a conversation. Maybe it was because it was so late at night or because Dick had been in the Manor a month and a half and all the traces of her parents’ scent was long gone.</p>
<p>“Bruce.”</p>
<p>“Remember when I came and talked to you about living with me?”</p>
<p>Something in his tone must have made it sound like they were about to have a serious conversation because Dick moved to sit properly. “I remember.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to replace your father, but I do want to offer you a place in the Wayne Pack… if you’d want it.”</p>
<p>She didn’t answer right away. Bruce could tell she was mulling things over in her head.</p>
<p>“You said that once you’re in the Wayne Pack, you don’t leave. You said that this isn’t like a modern pack: you can’t be in more than one.” She gave him a sort of challenging look like she couldn’t believe he was asking an eight-year-old this. “It’s a big commitment.”</p>
<p>“It is.”</p>
<p>Dick gave him a look that made him feel like he was being scraped down to his bones. He was learning quickly that Dick was good at reading people.</p>
<p>“I’d like to,” she said with finality.</p>
<p>Bruce almost choked on nothing. He had been expecting a refusal like he’d done to the Kanes after his parents’ death.</p>
<p>He reached his wrists out. Dick looked at them then back into his eyes.</p>
<p>“Actually, I have a condition.”</p>
<p>He lowered his arms back down. “I’ll hear it.”</p>
<p>“Never bite me.”</p>
<p>It was such an easy condition he didn’t even hesitate. “I promise.” He knew how messed up things had been at the center. He never wanted Dick to feel like he was just as bad as they were. He wanted her to feel safe here.</p>
<p>This time, Dick reached out. She dragged her wrists down his arms, spreading the scent of molasses and butter. He returned the gesture.</p>
<p>“Get Alfred in the morning,” he suggested.</p>
<p>“Sounds good.” She slid off the couch and started digging through the ottoman. She started pulling out one of the older quilts with flowered squares. “This one is heavy,” she muttered as she continued to pull it.</p>
<p>“That’s because it’s the best one,” Bruce replied even though he didn’t agree with his own statement. The red blanket he’d grabbed was the best one.</p>
<p>Dick hauled herself and the quilt back onto the couch. She shoved some of the quilt towards him. “I think this is the largest quilt in the Manor,” Dick declared as she shuffled around in it.</p>
<p>Bruce pressed his palms into the quilt and a memory flashed through his mind so quickly he almost missed it. This had been his mother’s favorite quilt. His previous statement was just an echo of what she’d told him when he was a kid.</p>
<p>He pulled the quilt up over his shoulders.</p>
<p>“It’s big enough for everyone,” he finished her saying.</p>
<p>“We’ll make Alfred join next time,” Dick told him.</p>
<p>“You think you can get Alfred to sleep on the couch?”</p>
<p>“I sure do.” Dick twisted onto her side and it was silent for a moment. “Goodnight, Bruce,” she said quietly.</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Dick.”</p>
<p>Bruce decided his mother was right. This quilt was the best.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The First Son</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ma Gunn’s School for Boys rested on a corner in Crime Alley. The yellow painted brick building was just as welcoming as the elderly, Australian woman who ran it and its intent was one Bruce could get behind. He knew the youth in Crime Alley deserved all the help they could get, and the school would provide many opportunities otherwise unreachable. Bruce left the building with hope that Ma Gunn would accomplish all she set out to.</p><p>He made his way back to the Batmobile, keeping an eye out for any crime, but Ma Gunn was right about the night being peaceful. The typical Crime Alley lawbreakers were smart enough to take time off on his annual patrol.</p><p>Nothing seemed out of place until he rounded the corner to where he’d parked the Batmobile.</p><p>The vehicle leaned precariously in the street, supported by only one tire.</p><p>Bruce crouched down next to one of the wheel wells and stared at the empty space like if he looked long enough the tire would suddenly reappear to where it should be.</p><p>He was completely baffled.</p><p>Who had the audacity to steal the tires off the Batmobile?</p><p>A laugh bubbled out of him as he considered his options on what to do.</p><p>He stayed there for a moment then placed a hand on the side of the car for balance as he started to stand, but he heard the grind of a shoe against asphalt from other side of the car. He gave it a moment before launching himself across the hood and landing in a squat. Which happened to make him face-to-face with the culprit.</p><p>A boy in a mostly red get up with a black bubble vest and a tire iron gaped at him.</p><p>He looked to be about in his early teens, definitely on the young side, but not a surprising character for Crime Alley.</p><p>The boy tucked the tire iron behind his back and looked up at him wide eyed.</p><p>Bruce used one of his kinder Batman tones as he told the kid to give him his tires back.</p><p>The kid still ended up smacking him in the ribs with a tire iron for it then took off running. </p><p>Bruce could stop him easily enough, but he decided he had a better chance of finding his tires if he just followed the boy.</p><p>They ended up barely a block away at an old, condemned building. The boy climbed up the fire escape then slipped through a gap in a boarded-up window. Bruce waited a moment before entering in after him.</p><p>The place was a mess. There were holes in the ceiling where insulation was drooping through, the walls were covered in graffiti, and in some places the dry wall was crumbling away.</p><p>He stepped into the room where the boy had gone and quickly spotted his tires.</p><p>The kid sat on a worn-out mattress smoking a cigarette but jumped to his feet when Bruce told him smoking was unhealthy. </p><p>There was a lantern hanging from where the old light fixture used to be in the middle of the room. The light allowed Bruce to get a better look than the streetlamps had.</p><p>When he’d first met Dick, Bruce had thought she was what he would have looked like as a child if he were a girl. Although, she was more tan. This boy was strikingly similar to Bruce as a child.</p><p>And probably just as alone. He didn’t have any scents connecting him with a pack, just his single scent of cinnamon.</p><p>Bruce asked about his parents and the kid crossed his arms while he spoke about them with a hardened expression. He tried to assure Bruce he was just fine on his own.</p><p>The insistence about his independence reminded Bruce of Dick.</p><p>When he’d told her she couldn’t be the Robin to his Batman anymore, he’d thought she’d stay in Gotham. Instead, Dick permanently moved away to Jump City and fought crime alongside other teenagers. Leading her team. Now, Bruce couldn’t even be there to watch her back. He didn’t know if it was worse of better.</p><p>Bruce was glad Dick had decided to move into Titans Tower instead of a condemned building. </p><p>The boy told him to get out of his place and followed it up by throwing a punch.</p><p>The kid was scrappy alright. He placed a gloved hand on top the kid’s head and told him to help with the tires.</p><p>He ended up making a deal with the kid, Jason Todd, he learned the name was, that he wouldn’t call any social workers as long as Jason went to Ma Gunn’s school.</p><p>Bruce wasn’t a fan of Gotham’s social workers anyways.</p><p>***</p><p>It wasn’t often that Bruce would admit to a mistake. He was conscious enough of his own personality to recognize his pride… and if he didn’t, well, Dick was always willing to point it out for him.</p><p>This was certainly one of those times. Bruce had fucked up. He’d so obviously fucked up he didn’t even need Dick to tell him.</p><p>He’d sent Jason Todd to Ma Gunn in hopes that she’d be able to give him a conventional education and help him get out of Crime Alley.</p><p>He’d really believed that the school would act as a gateway for better things for Gotham City boys.</p><p>Ma Gunn had done an excellent job convincing him of that.</p><p>He couldn’t believe she’d fooled him so easily.</p><p>Ma Gunn wasn’t teaching arithmetic. She was teaching the advantages of automatics over revolvers. She was leading museum heists and pulling young boys into further lives of crime.</p><p>How could he have expected Jason to keep the deal when the school he was sending him to actively promoted criminal behavior? Of course the boy was going to drop out!</p><p>There was no way in hell he was turning Jason over to social services though.</p><p>The Batmobile ended up pulling away from the museum with both Batman and Jason Todd inside it.</p><p>***</p><p>Bruce and Jason sat a few feet apart in the bay window of the Manor’s library. Jason read <em>Invisible Man</em> while Bruce held <em>The Jungle </em>and tried to arrange the words in his head that he wanted to say to Jason. If Dick were here, she’d just say it for him. But she wasn’t, and now it was up to him to actually talk to convey his feelings.</p><p>He set his book down. No, he still wasn’t sure what to say but he was hoping it’d come to him fast because Jason had caught the motion and was closing his own book to focus on Bruce.</p><p>“Jason.”</p><p>“Yeah, B?”</p><p>“I—" How did Bruce say this? “I know you haven’t been here very long.” He paused and noticed Jason looking at him with concern.</p><p>“Okay.” Jason set his book down.</p><p>“But I…” He really should have written something down beforehand or Googled a pre-made speech on how to ask if it was okay with someone to adopt them.</p><p>Something on his face made Jason start to panic a bit. The boy started fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Are you sending me away already?”</p><p>“No,” Bruce said, probably looking just as alarmed as Jason. “Jason, I would like to adopt you.”</p><p>Bruce sat statue still waiting for Jason’s response. Maybe he shouldn’t have just blurted it out. He should have made a nice speech about wanting to give Jason a loving home and family and have him become Jason Todd-Wayne if he wanted to. Wait, he’d forgotten to tell Jason he didn’t need to feel pressured. “Jay, if you don’t want to, nothing has to change. You can still be Robin and stay at the Manor. I don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes. I’d be honored if you’d let me legally be your father, but if that’s not who you want me to be for you, then I won’t.”</p><p>Jason searched Bruce’s expression another time. “For real?”</p><p>He stared back at Jason dumbly.</p><p>“You really want to be my dad?”</p><p>Bruce shifted to make sure his body language was as open as possible. “I would love to be your dad.”</p><p>A grin broke out over Jason’s expression. “I’m down with that.”</p><p>Bruce felt himself match Jason’s smile. “I’ll get a team started on the paperwork.” Bruce almost picked his book back up until the other important topic crossed his mind. “Jason, how would you feel about joining the Wayne Pack?”</p><p>Jason gave him a confused look. “Wouldn’t I just automatically do that once I’m adopted?”</p><p>He gave a slight shake of his head. “You have a choice whether or not you want to join the pack, too. The Wayne Pack is quite traditional, so accepting a place in it is a serious commitment compared to most other packs,” Bruce explained. “Once you’re in, you’re in. The Wayne Pack has always been a lifelong commitment and we don’t believe in split loyalties. Some people call us a 'ride or die' pack." Bruce felt like there was a better way to say it. "My mother was a Kane but when she married into my father’s family, she stopped being a part of the Kane Pack and so while I’m technically part Kane and part Wayne, I’m only a member of the Wayne Pack.”</p><p>“So, like unilateral descent but instead of it determining who your family is, it determines who your pack is?”</p><p>“I suppose it is,” Bruce agreed. He’d never really thought of it that way before.</p><p>They sat in silence for a moment as Jason contemplated the offer. </p><p>He made his mind up surprisingly fast.  </p><p>“I’m in!” Jason’s smile was blinding as he scrambled across the cushions.</p><p>Bruce spread his arms and wrapped Jason into a hug while he dragged his chin across his soon-to-be-son’s temple. He felt Jason drag his wrists down his back.</p><p>Clove and cinnamon. More spice than sweet. </p><p>As soon as Bruce pulled back, Jason was on his feet, smile still wide.</p><p>“Alfred is in the garden, right?” The black-haired boy asked. He darted out the door to hunt down his other new packmate before Bruce could answer.</p><p>He tucked his head between his knees. He could have done that a lot better.</p><p>At least Jason had agreed.</p><p>He picked up <em>The Jungle  </em>and brought himself to sit straight. Maybe he should check the library for parenting guides instead.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Bonus: Dick doesn't learn about Jason from Bruce. She finds out because of his scent on some of the blankets Alfred sent her at Titans Tower. She doesn't have time to go back to the Manor until after Jason is already going out as Robin. Nightwing and Robin have their first adventure together and at the end of it Dick officially claims Jason as her back when she gifts him her old Robin suit and ruffles his hair. That's the first time she scent marks him.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Second Son</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neighbors were for suburban, nuclear families. They were for borrowing tools, giving Christmas cookies, and arguing over whose tree was blowing leaves in whose yard.</p><p>Gotham’s old money families did <em>not</em> have neighbors. The only people they cared to meet were at galas, philanthropy events, and other occasions catered specifically for the wealthy.</p><p>They sure didn’t have neighborhood parties or dog sit for each other.</p><p>Bruce knew the property lines of the Manor estate were somewhere. He knew that another person’s property bordered them. He, of course, had looked up who lived on that land, but he’d never thought to call them neighbors.</p><p>To him, the Drakes were just the family living in the house closest to his. </p><p>He ran into them at the openings of museum exhibits and social parties, but he wouldn’t use the term <em>neighbor</em>.</p><p>The youngest Drake, Tim, had no problem using the word to describe himself.</p><p>After Jason's... </p><p>Well, he didn’t want another person by his side. He refused to let another boy claim the role of Robin.</p><p>He didn't choose Tim, Tim chose him.  </p><p>He tried so hard to keep this new black-haired boy out of the costume. </p><p>Alfred ended up being the one who passed the outfit to Tim. Bruce was partially glad it wasn't him. He would have felt like he was handing over a curse. </p><p>Tim was Robin before he was ever family. Before he was pack.</p><p>***</p><p>Bruce knew Jack and Janet Drake weren’t around a lot.</p><p>Tim’s pack scent was scant at best. The boy was all vanilla and salt with the tiniest hints of rose and patchouli from his parents. Honestly, the must from a barely lived in house stuck stronger onto Tim’s skin than his parents’ scents.</p><p>He never thought of making Tim part of the pack. It wouldn’t have made sense to. Tim had parents, even if they were hardly at home, they still claimed him as their packmate, and Tim was still loyal to them.</p><p>Tim lost his mother first. </p><p>Then his father.</p><p>***</p><p>Bruce made it into the room after Tim. They boy was half stripped out of the Robin suit, his hands attempting to plug the hole in Jack’s chest left by a boomerang. It was pointless, Jack Drake was already dead.</p><p>He didn’t say that to Tim. He knelt on the floor next to Jack’s body and wrapped Tim up in his arms and part of his cape. He noticed the blood pooled on the other side. An uneven floor. Tim’s bare foot smeared in some of it and Bruce was tempted to haul the boy away.</p><p>He didn't.</p><p>He let Tim grieve.</p><p>He knew what it felt like to become an orphan.</p><p>Tim let out a whimper and tightened his grip on Bruce’s arm. He didn’t bring the boy any closer. He didn’t want to cover him in too much of his scent.</p><p>In his most soothing voice, he comforted Tim the best he could.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how long they were like that.</p><p>Much later into the night, Tim sat in the cave with his feet in a basin of warm water as Bruce scrubbed dried blood from between his toes.</p><p>***</p><p>Jack Drake’s death didn’t immediately make Tim and Bruce family. In fact, Jason Todd came back from the dead before Tim was ever pack.</p><p>***</p><p>Bruce let Alfred know of his plan to ask Tim into the pack first. He needed to older man’s help with it dearly.</p><p>He was sure Dick and Jason already had some sort of inkling. He didn’t know how, but <em>they were</em> detectives…</p><p>Dick had texted him asking when they should be over. Bruce had never responded.</p><p>Bruce pulled into the cave after questioning the Great White and found Tim staring at the giant penny. He decided it was finally a good time to make the offer.</p><p>Bruce ended up tripping over his words worse than when he’d asked Jason.</p><p>Thank God for Alfred. The elder man took directive over the situation and led them up into the Manor. He brought them into Dick’s old room.</p><p>“This could be your room,” he told Tim. </p><p>The young teen gave him a confused look. “I already have the stable.”</p><p>“Yes, but I want... I would like for your home to be the Manor. Tim, I’d like to adopt you.” He couldn’t tell what Tim was thinking at the idea. He was hit with a wave of his first meetings with Dick. “I know I could never replace your father—”</p><p>He was cut off by Tim launching himself into Bruce’s chest. He was stunned for a moment, especially when he noticed Tim was crying.</p><p>He brought an arm up around Tim’s should and pressed the boy close. “It will be alright,” he whispered.</p><p>Tim pulled away and took off his gloves. He took one look at Bruce still in the Batsuit and turned towards Alfred instead, offering his wrists. The elder wolf opened his arms as an invitation for a hug which Tim quickly accepted. He gently rubbed his wrists down Alfred’s back.</p><p>“I recommend you change into something more suitable, Master Bruce, and inform the rest of the pack,” Alfred said as he scent marked Tim in the same manner.  </p><p>“Of course, Alfred.” He’d forgotten he’d only lowered the cowl for the conversation.</p><p>***</p><p>When he returned in a sweatsuit, Tim was out of the Robin getup and both he and Alfred were settled on the bed.</p><p>Tim patted the spot next to him and Bruce sat, obligingly. He let Tim run his wrists along his spine then pulled him close so he could settle his chin on top Tim’s head.</p><p>“Dick said she was on her way over for tonight, and Jason said he’d drop by tomorrow,” Bruce informed.</p><p>Tim hummed in acknowledgement but made no indication he wanted to move. Bruce didn’t know how long he could sit in the position he was in. He did his best not to jostle Tim as he finagled himself so his back was up against the headboard.</p><p>He made comforting circles on Tim’s back until Dick arrived.</p><p>Alfred scented Tim one more time before standing and scenting Dick then announcing he was going to retire to his own quarters.</p><p>There was a chorus of, “Good night, Alfred.”</p><p>“Good night,” he replied with a swift exit.</p><p>Dick paused and looked at them like she was committing the scene to her memory permanently. “Welcome to the pack, Baby Bird.” She gave them a blinding smile.</p><p>“Aren’t you going to greet me?” Tim extended his arms.</p><p>“Of course.” Dick jumped into the bed, leaned over, and pulled Tim to her. She gave him one of her good hugs.</p><p>She rubbed her cheek against Tim’s and the boy blushed slightly. “Why do you do it like that?”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Why didn’t you do the temple?”</p><p>Dick just laughed and rubbed her chin over Tim’s temple.</p><p>Tim went back to leaning against Bruce and Dick raised a brow at him like she was asking if would ever stop adopting black-hair-blue-eyed-children. What she verbally asked was, “Slumber party?”</p><p>“Slumber party,” he confirmed.</p><p>He went back to making circles on Tim’s back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey all you amazing people ♥ I hope you all are having a great week! <br/>I cranked this chapter out in like... well, not long. It deserved more love than I gave it, but I hope you all enjoy it.<br/>Tim is absolutely precious, unfortunately, I know the least about him so I found this chapter kind of challenging. <br/>No, Tim didn't get the you-can-never-leave-Wayne-Pack speech. I figured he was around long enough to already know, plus, the Drakes were probably similar.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Vilomah (Against Natural Order, a Person whose Child has Died)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Canonical Character Death </p>
<p>I wrote this instead of studying for my GRE</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was smoke, rubble, and the sound of his boots crunching through debris.</p>
<p>Bruce felt the tug of his cape catching on the wreckage. He pulled it loose quickly as his mind swirled in panic after what Sheila had just told him with her dying breath.</p>
<p>He trudged forward. And—god, there was Jason lying prone, costume ripped, a boot missing, and blood running down him in streams.</p>
<p>He fell to the ground, reaching for a pulse even though he already knew what he’d find. Nothing.</p>
<p>He didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t bring himself to accept that Jason was dead, and as he gathered the boy up in his arms, in the back of his mind he recognized the denial for what it was: the first stage of grief.</p>
<p>He stood, his son's body in his arms, and began the walk back through the ruins.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Bonus: </p>
<p>They stood in the rain, Bruce with his cowl off and Jason with his red helmet laying in the alley.</p>
<p>“Jason,” Bruce said, managing to keep his tone smooth.</p>
<p>Lights from cars passing on the outer road cast repeated shadows over them.</p>
<p>Jason said something, but Bruce couldn’t focus on the words to make them out. He’d thought about it for weeks, Jason possibly being the Red Hood. Now he was certain. He was so certain and there was no way he was letting his son leave. One moment he was standing feet away from Jason and the next he was running his chin over Jason’s temple. He was not letting his claim to Jason as a part of his pack slip by.</p>
<p>“Get the fuck off.” Jason pushed him away, gnashing his teeth, but the rage lasted only a moment. The younger man stood wide eyed, no doubt bewildered from Bruce’s actions, from being reaffirmed into the pack. The rage returned and Jason began to curse him out.</p>
<p>Bruce ignored it, pleased that Jason wasn’t immediately throwing punches. He subtly sent the commands for the Batmobile to come to their location then he slipped off his gauntlets.</p>
<p>“What’re you doing?” Jason asked, but his voice ended up muffled by the end due to Bruce wrapping himself around the younger man in a hug that Dick would approve of.</p>
<p>He ran his wrists down Jason’s back and this time Jason didn’t push him away.</p>
<p>Jason said something about the Joker and Bruce allowed himself to pull back slightly. He brought one hand up to Jason’s neck, brushing over the scent gland there with the tips of his fingers, and he looked Jason in the eyes. He let himself flinch from their intensity and let his expression mirror his son’s pain. “I love you,” he said and he knew if Dick were there, she’d tell him off because he wasn’t being fair. He was showering on affection and comforting scent and he wasn’t being fair. He needed to be listening, taking responsibility. Instead, he repeated himself softly and brought his hand from Jason’s neck to his own because he desperately needed Jason’s scent to be just as smothered on him as his was on Jason.</p>
<p>“No, you don’t,” Jason said, with a little crack that made Bruce know he believed it and Bruce’s heart stung from the claim.</p>
<p>Bruce pulled himself closer to his son, resting his forehead on Jason’s shoulder, unsure if the wet on his face was from the rain. “I’m sorry. <em>Jason</em>.” It sounded like a whine even to his own ears.</p>
<p>“Bruce.” Jason’s tone was guarded.</p>
<p>He placed a hand on the back of Jason’s neck as he leaned back so he could look at Jason directly again. “You are <em>Wayne Pack</em>.”</p>
<p>“I thought that was ‘till death do us part.”</p>
<p>“You have to stay dead, really, if you want to get out of it.”</p>
<p>“Knew crawling out of that grave was gonna screw me over somehow.”</p>
<p>Bruce was sure by this point that it wasn’t the rain on his cheeks. He felt the buzz that let him know the Batmobile was at the mouth of the alley.</p>
<p>Jason ended up in the Batmobile with him.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Another Bonus: </p>
<p>Dick pounded on the shitty apartment door and double checked the number with the message Alfred had sent her. It was the correct address.</p>
<p>“Hold your horses, Jesus Christ,” a voice called from inside, familiar but different. Jason.</p>
<p>She felt her anger flare at Bruce for not telling her Jason was alive, for knowing weeks ago and still leaving her out of the loop. At the same time, she felt a burning pain because the situation was so similar to Jason’s death. In both instances, Alfred had been the one to inform her and she’d found out much later than she should have.</p>
<p>The door finally opened. Jason stood across from her, aged since the last time she’d seen him. Seventeen, Alfred had told her.</p>
<p>“Dick?”</p>
<p>She didn’t answer. She reached up (and that in itself was strange, she was used to being taller) and touched his jaw. She could smell his cinnamon and Bruce’s clove and Alfred’s ginger, and she was struck by the absence of her scent on him. He was <em>her</em> pack. She stepped into the apartment’s narrow hallway and Jason stepped back so she didn’t run him over. He reached over her shoulder and shut the door. She grabbed onto both his upper arms and pulled down because the height difference was pissing her off. She brushed her cheek across his and now that Jason was getting the message to not stand so straight, she let go and ran her wrists over his back then pushed her nose into his neck.</p>
<p>“Dick.” This time he sounded annoyed. He started drawing away. Dick snarled into his neck because he better fucking not. If her teeth brushed over his skin, it was a total accident, not a warning.</p>
<p>“You’re alive,” she finally managed to say.</p>
<p>“Uh. Yeah.”</p>
<p>She inhaled at his scent gland, pressing her nose right against it, the strong cinnamon reminding keeping her grounded. </p>
<p>“I can’t stand like this much longer, Dickhead.”</p>
<p>Dick took a half step back. She felt tears building up in her eyes. “I’m really glad you’re alive.”</p>
<p>“Fuck off,” Jason said, but he bent forward even more so he could nose at the scent gland under Dick’s jaw just like she had done to him. He straightened back up. “There a chance you’re not planning on staying here and never letting me out of your sight again?”</p>
<p>Dick choked on a sob and the alarm that flashed across Jason’s face made it happen again.</p>
<p>“Okay. Couch cuddles?”</p>
<p>She swallowed hard in an attempt to steady her voice. “They’re gonna be the best cuddles of your second life.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, Bruce did a pretty good job the other night.”</p>
<p>She might have growled at Bruce’s name.</p>
<p>“You two still not—”</p>
<p>“Later,” she cut him off because she was <em>not</em> talking about Bruce’s most recent fuck ups and later meant never. She gave Jason a little shove. “Couch or I’m gonna end up cuddling you on the floor right here.”</p>
<p>“Bossy.”</p>
<p>She followed Jason down the hall and through an archway into a small room with a couch, a desk, and a bookshelf. She dramatically sprawled across the couch and opened her arms like she was waiting for Jason to come lay across her.</p>
<p>“You know I’m, like, not as light as I used to be.”</p>
<p>“Can’t be heavier than Roy,” she shot back and the disgusted look on Jason’s face was worth it.</p>
<p>Jason ended up blanketed across her with his head tucked under her chin. She massaged his neck with one hand while the other rested between his shoulder blades and she hummed until he fell asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Disownment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated this series. It's still one of my favorites to write for, it's my stress relief fic. I feel so guilty with how long it's just been sitting without me giving it more love. I'm thinking of reformatting how this series is laid out?? When I first started it, I thought I was going to do a lot of nonchronological parts, but that's not what happened. I'm thinking of combining parts 1-6 and leaving part 7 separate. Then, I would add new parts if they weren't part 1-6 chronology and expand 1-6 as a chaptered fic. So, if things end up looking a little different, that's what I did. </p><p>I'm one month into my last month of college and it's been going pretty well, but with TA-ing and an overloaded schedule, my time is being sucked away. Random note: it's freezing where I am. There's been a lot of snow and electric companies are rolling out blackouts to conserve energy. I hope wherever you are you're safe and doing well 🤍 I love you all and I hope you enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bruce and Dick knew each other. They knew each other in that way where lying was useless, deception was impossible. They knew each other in that way where lies were no longer <em>meant</em> to deceive.</p><p>They used lies like double-edged blades, one telling the other the words they desperately wanted to hear only to know the <em>I love you</em>, <em>you did everything you could</em>, and<em> it's not that I want to go</em> all meant the opposite. They cut each other deep knowing how easily their words would be seen through and voicing them anyways, voicing them on purpose.</p><p>But the lies weren't as bad as the truths. When they lied, they could pretend they weren't trying to hurt each other. They could pretend it was some sort of kindness because hearing a false <em>I'm enjoying your company</em> was better than hearing a direct <em>the longer I'm with you, the more I resent you</em>. So, when they chose to say what they meant, they both acknowledged a change in intent. Truths were meant to pierce not cut.</p><p> </p><p>They were in the Batcave, Bruce in the cowl and Dick in her suit, mask off.</p><p>Dick was steaming, absolutely livid. Bruce was too far in himself to figure out something as complicated as <em>how he was feeling</em>. Dick probably could answer that for him. One time, when he'd been dating a brunette woman who insisted on wearing pants made out of recycled plastic, he'd made an offhanded comment about Dick practically being able to read minds. The woman had smiled, still maintaining her air of seriousness, and told him, "Dick is a Pisces." Bruce might have spent too much time trying to science his way through astrology after that. So, Dick probably knew how Bruce was feeling and Bruce knew how Dick was feeling.</p><p>He was no stranger to Dick's temper. When she was angry, she still thought before she spoke. She weighed the impact of her words, weighed if the satisfaction of the damage done in the moment would be worth the fallout she'd have to deal with later. She didn't lie when she got angry. Whatever she said reflected <em>exactly</em> how she was feeling at the time. Gone was the malice masked in lies. She turned to sharp truths that would slip into Bruce's skin with the ease of obsidian.</p><p>The worst part was that Bruce was struggling to refute Dick's points. With every step Dick called him out on, he was realizing how poorly he'd dealt with Zucco. He defended his actions anyways.</p><p>Dick slammed her fist onto the console table of the Batcomputer. "This isn't something you wouldn't have thought to plan for!"</p><p>Bruce didn't match her volume. He gave an imperceptible shrug and turned his head so he wasn't looking into her eyes. "I would never be complicit in someone's death, you know that."</p><p>Dick lessened the gap between them with a step. "No. You know what I think? I think ever since Jason was killed you've been toeing the line. Clark had to pull you off of the Clown and now you've been seeing how close you can get, how indirectly responsible you can be, before somebody declares the goddamn Batman a murderer!"</p><p>"Just because there's a new opening for a monster in your life, Dick, doesn't mean I have to fill the role." Bruce's expression pulled itself into a snarl. He turned to start towards the Batmobile, he had a ledger to find, but Dick's voice stopped him.</p><p>"You say that like I haven't already thought of you as the angel of death."</p><p>He twisted back and his next actions blurred together, hot, because Bruce's anger was the opposite of Dick's. He didn't think. He didn't offer even the briefest contemplation as to the consequences of his action. He just <em>did</em>. His type of anger was typically printed in newspapers as a 'fit of passion'. Terminology Bruce didn't particularly like because it removed responsibility, but it fit him. It fit the fury spreading through his chest. His reaction was sparked by reasons he didn't care to examine but knew stemmed first from the insinuation death inevitably accompanied him and second from his desire to put distance between him and Dick. So, he twisted back, and then it was white-hot rage taking control, the blinding kind where you forget your arms are attached to your body. He was vaguely aware of pinning Dick to the ground in a quick motion, of sinking his teeth into her neck. But Dick didn't still in the hold like every other wolf would.</p><p>There was a knee into Bruce's chest, forcibly tearing him away while Dick simultaneously slid back away from him on the cave floor.</p><p>Bruce ended up on his feet, blood in his mouth. Dick sat with her back leaning against a stalagmite, hand pressed to her neck, lips drawn back.</p><p>He had just done that. He had just done <em>that</em>.</p><p>Dick let out a feral growl and Bruce almost forgot to choke back his own in response. Dick pulled her hand down, glancing at the blood like she needed physical proof of what'd just happened. She put it back and turned her gaze so that if Bruce weren't in the cowl, they'd be making eye contact. "Get the fuck out," she whispered.</p><p>And he did.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Twelve days later, Bruce was in Metropolis for a business meeting with a fast-growing tech company. He stopped at HOLLY'S, the hole-in-the-wall diner with fantastic pie. He was two steps in the door when he caught a hint of molasses and butter. He thought, at first, it was coming from the pastries, but there, to his right, was Dick Grayson staring him down from a booth. They both froze. The body across from Dick, Clark, turned and noticed him.</p><p>Bruce drew in a deeper breath, finding both his and Alfred's scents all but gone on Dick's skin. He needed to go scent mark her. He needed to reinforce the Wayne pack claim.</p><p>Instead, he turned around and walked out the door. He didn't acknowledge the stale ginger and clove. He didn't make a plea for forgiveness. He left without a word, without the brush of hands that would have signaled she was still welcome in the pact. It was a rejection. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had a friend once tell me no one can make him mad like his siblings. I think the same thing applies to Bruce and Dick. Their anger is different when directed at each other than it would be in other situations. I had a lot of fun writing their destructive behavior.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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